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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324085">Gift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyDehmer/pseuds/ToastyDehmer'>ToastyDehmer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, M/M, Miscommunication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:27:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyDehmer/pseuds/ToastyDehmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ulfgang gets Burtoge a gift, alcohol he adores and recently ran out of and wouldn’t be able to get any for a while. It gets a little muddled but the intention comes through clear eventually.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Medic/Spy (Team Fortress 2)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>dontneedavalentine2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After nigh on four years of knowing Burtoge, Ulfgang was sure he knew how to handle something as small as giving a gift. Until the day of giving said gift.</p><p>The Medic sat on his mattress and glared at the bottle of Lagavulin. It was a simple brown bottle with it’s only defining feature being the odd rounded shape to the neck. It wasn’t too expensive of a gift. He knew how much of a big mistake that would be. But on that same note, it wasn’t cheap. Ordering it took a bit of time - and a bit of help and he owed a couple favors he didn’t want to think about. The shipping alone took an awfully long time itself. But the bottle arrived and it arrived whole. Now all there was to do….was to give it. But staring at it, Ulfgang’s nerves came crawling back.</p><p>He swore and stood up, running a bare hand through his untied hair, fingers of his other hand squeezing his hip and digging in. With the door closed there was no way for someone to see him pacing from one end of the little bedroom to the other. No way for someone to stop and stare at him being so uncharacteristically….indecisive. Anxious. <em> Self-conscious. </em></p><p>He was being ridiculous. This, Ulfgang was more than aware of. But he couldn’t help it. Annoyingly so.</p><p>See- Burtoge did not care for money being spent on him. Something the Medic had learned early on in their...relations. He preferred actions over gifts. The Spy would take them - to a point. If it became a weekly or even a <em> monthly </em> thing or (god forbid) someone bought him something more than a trinket, he’d refuse. He’d give it back and demand the gifter return it and get their money back. Adamantly.</p><p>Ulfgang knew the reason for that now but even so…</p><p>He stopped in the middle of his room and groaned, head falling back, grey eyes glaring up at the ceiling.</p><p>There wasn’t much time left. Nearly every Saturday at nine in the morning. Burtoge would come and invite him to the lounge. It was like clockwork. Already it was bearing 9:45AM. Ulfgang tilted his head to the side to double-check. Make that 9:55, <em> scheisse! </em></p><p>Again, he scowled at the bottle. Clicking his tongue, he moved towards the high dresser it sat on top of. Ulfgang slipped a length of teal ribbon from the topmost drawer and went about neatly brushing and gathering his hair. The long dirty-dishwater blonde hair was tied into a low hanging ponytail, tugged tight just as he heard a knock on the infirmary door beyond his bedroom door. He heard it open and then close shut once more. A pause. Ulfgang looked at his door.</p><p>“Ulffy?” Burtoge. “<em>Wo bist du? </em>”</p><p>It was an odd sensation to both relax and tense up further at the same time. He glanced back at the bottle of Lagavulin, biting his lower lip. If he wanted to back out-</p><p>“Ulfgang?” Lower, a touch of concern, closer to the bedroom. This would be his last chance to hide the bottle. He thought about it… and sighed, shoulders drooping.</p><p>“Come here,” Ulfgang called back. He grabbed the bottle by the odd neck and his it behind his back just before the door opened a crack. Burtoge peered inside curiously and Ulfgang felt a miniscule joy just in seeing the Spy’s cruffy face. Curly, short pale blonde hair, green-blue eyes, 24/7 5 o’clock shadow, sweatpants, and of course his ever present ‘STAFF’ hoodie. He looked nothing like a Spy, nothing like a deadly and able killer. No. Burtoge was his own brand.</p><p>Those pretty eyes looked Ulfgang up and down then narrowed, staring at how he had his arms behind his back. Ulfgang cursed himself when he nervously shifted because those bright eyes narrowed even further.</p><p>“What...is that,” Burtoge very nearly growled. Ulfgang kept his silence. Wisely so he thought. Until Burtoge huffed and grumbled, “I don’t like where this is going.”</p><p>And that- he felt so- so- so aggravated! So frustrated! To the point that he scowled at Burtoge and shoved the bottle into Burtoge’s chest.</p><p>“Shut up and take it,” Ulfgang hissed, shouldering his way past Burtoge through the door. He heard the Spy splutter behind him before the door snapped shut.</p><p>“Excuse me?!”</p><p>Ulfgang walked to the center of his infirmary and stood beside the examination table rubbing his face with both hands. Of course Burtoge followed. Of course.</p><p>He shouldn't have snapped. But hindsight 20/20.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” It was spoken tersely. Apologies from him <em> was </em> always like pulling teeth.</p><p>Another pause, Burtoge’s footsteps stopping what sounded like a scant meter away. And then a put-upon sigh.</p><p>“I know you are, Ulffy,” Burtoge responded sounding beleaguered. “But for the love of god, can you please explain thi-...”</p><p>About time he looked at what he held. Ulfgang crossed his arms and turned to face his paramour, leaning back against the locked table.</p><p>He found Burtoge looking down at the bottle with blatant interest, admiring it, lips moving as he read the label. Ulfgang understood exactly zero of what it all meant but he’d been assured multiple times that it was good. Perhaps more than ‘good’ depending on who was drinking it. And he knew Burtoge would. Think of it as more, that is.</p><p>But just as he could spot the immense want to hoard it away with the rest of his collection, so too could Ulfgang see the internal battle in Burtage’s eyes.</p><p>“I remembered….” Ulfgang hesitantly started but then grimaced and stopped. It sounded so timid. He almost didn’t continue until ht eSpy looked up with owlishly wide eyes. He could feel the rising flush on his cheeks as he softly started again, gaze skirting off to the right. “I remembered you...bemoaning...using the last of your favorite whisky. And how it was such a pain in the rear to get it here at this base. And...I happened to remember the brand</p><p>“I just…” <em> Gott verdammt! </em> Emotions were so damn finicky. Explaining them was such a hassle! He <strike> pouted </strike> scowled and pursed his lips, still staring off to the side.</p><p>Very quietly he admitted, “I wanted to do this one thing for you, <em> mein liebling</em>.”</p><p>The silence after he said… <em> that </em> stretched on. Ulfgang was almost ready to snatch the bottle back, to toss it on his bed, lock the door, and tell Burtoge to forget it because what else had Ulfgang been expanding!? But then-... But then a soft hand cupped his right cheek and gently had Ulfgang turn his head back to Burtoge and- Ulfgang’s eyes widened and his brows jumped up and the tension <em> fled </em> because-</p><p>He looked so tender. His smile was so soft, his eyes full of such adoration. Burtoge looked so terribly fond in that moment. And with the warm morning light streaming in…</p><p>
  <em> Schön. Perfekt schön. </em>
</p><p>His heart stuttered. The breath he drew felt both heavy as lead and light as helium.</p><p>“Silly <em> dummkopf</em>,” Burtoge murmured. They leaned in and Ulfgang eyes fluttered shut.</p><p>He would never admit how these warm, chaste kisses affected him. Or how much he loved them, hungered for them. Countless times they’ve been to bed. But these kinds of moments? The slow and affectionate moments filled with something not quite love but so much more than lust… Ulfgang craved them like the love-sick fool he was.</p><p>It was quiet still when Burtoge slowly pulled away a bare inches. Except this quiet was...good. Very good. Ulfgang didn’t stop the dreamy sigh and pleased smile and pried his eyes open. Burtoge still looked so… Ulfgang briefly closed his eyes, laid a hand over Burtoge’s, and turned his head to plant a kiss on the palm.</p><p>“Well,” Burtoge quietly hummed, his rare accent egbing allowed to show. “I suppose we should crack this one open. Together.”</p><p>“Mmm. <em> Ja</em>.”</p><p><em> ‘He's dazzling when he smiles,' </em>Ulfgang privately thought.</p><p>“Come on then.” Burtoge grabbed and tugged on his hand. They left the infirmary.</p><p>Ulfgang hoped that one day...Burtoge would be able to love him the way he loved Burtoge.</p>
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